


Switchback

by peppymint



Category: Teen Titans
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-06 10:05:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppymint/pseuds/peppymint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like train tracks, not the knife. Years in the future, Slade comes back for Nightwing.<br/>Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one</p>
            </blockquote>





	Switchback

**Author's Note:**

> First off, there are way to many versions of Batman &amp; co. to keep track of
> 
> So I am going to set the scene for you all
> 
> Dick is still a police officer in Bludhaven
> 
> Tim is Robin; Cassandra is Batgirl
> 
> Slade is more like the one from TV Teen Titans than the comics
> 
> No mention of his children, they don't exist
> 
> Slade does not know Nightwing's identity,
> 
> but obviously knows he was Robin

**Chapter One**

_Part One_

A booted foot slammed into one thug’s jaw as he vaulted over another. Nightwing made a mental note to backtrack the source of his information. It was obvious he had been set up. The vigilante had been expecting trouble, but not with such a large group. He certainly hadn’t been expecting them to be expecting him.

It had been a good ambush all things told. The group had done well. Most people wouldn’t have lasted one minute. Nightwing wasn’t just anybody. He was the Dark Knight's protégé, and it showed.

By the time his last opponent dropped to the floor, the victim of a karate chop to the neck, Dick was breathing hard. He was in excellent shape. Still, he had been greatly outnumbered. The dark-clad figure took a moment to catalog his condition. The first aid kit would see some use tonight, nothing serious however.

A soft sigh escaped Nightwing’s lips. Even if he had the equipment to secure them all, his attackers would be out within days, if not hours. The BPD would not be winning any awards anytime soon. If Dick had his way, that would change one day. The young man was about to leave when he paused.

It was instinct, more than anything else, which told him he was not alone. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and the slender figure tensed. Nightwing turned slowly, eyes searching for the source of his uneasiness. There, his gaze focused on the shadowed figure. It was too dark to make out the other’s features.

Applause filled the night air as the hidden man stepped forward. “Excellent Robin,” the smooth voice was far too familiar to Dick’s ears. “You have improved.”

It took every bit of the vigilante’s hard won discipline not to outwardly react to the appearance of the black and orange clad man. It was Slade. Dick had hoped the mercenary had vanished from his life forever, no such luck.

Brilliant blue eyes narrowed from behind his mask. “My name is Nightwing now.”

“So it is,” Slade agreed as he approached on silent feet. “I must say; it suits you.”

“Get to the point. What do you want?” Nightwing had grown tired of the older man’s games back in his teens. “You can’t possibly think I would accept your offer now.” Dick had grown up. He answered to no one, not Batman, and definitely not Slade.

It was just as well Nightwing could not see the immortal’s smile under his own mask. The expression was that of a tiger, cool and merciless. “Perhaps,” he murmured softly. “Then again perhaps not.” He took another step forward. The vigilante held his ground.

“I am a selfish man,” the mercenary continued. “I never claimed to be otherwise.” His single eye focused on Nightwing with a hunter’s intensity. “When I find something I value, I am not willing to give it up.”

No one had ever accused the first Robin of being slow on the uptake. He had collected a great deal of information on Slade over the years. He knew how the older man had become immortal. The serum would be difficult to recreate, but not impossible, especially for someone with the mercenary’s resources.

“No,” the single word was said flatly. Dick wasn’t begging, or even telling the other to stop. Nightwing knew he wouldn’t. It was a simple statement of his intentions. He would not just allow Slade to do this to him.

“I do not recall telling you that you had a choice in the matter.” Slade crossed the last bit of distance between them. His leg lashed out at chest level.

It didn’t connect. Nightwing was no longer there. His favored weapons dropped easily into gloved hands and a grim expression crossed his face. Dick wasn’t at all certain he could win this fight. The thugs had been nothing but fodder, meant to tire him. They had unknowingly served Slade’s purpose perfectly.

The vigilante fought well, but in the end, it was not enough. A strong arm wrapped around his throat like an iron clamp, depriving him of oxygen. Dick struggled to get free. Playing possum was not an option, not with this man. Unfortunately, Slade had always been the stronger of the pair.

As black spots danced around his vision a soft voice whispered in Nightwing’s ear. “I can afford to be patient. I have all eternity, and soon so will you.”

Dick was not comforted by the words. The last vestige of consciousness left him and he slumped into Slade’s arms, the mercenary’s triumphant laughter echoing in his ears.

_Part Two_

The first thing Nightwing became aware of was that his head hurt. Soon enough though, the events of the night before returned to him. Dick could not prevent himself from moving. Not that it did any good; he had been tied down.

“Awake are you,” the voice came from above him.

The vigilante opened his eyes to see Slade. The older man was standing right next to him, too close in Dick’s opinion. Trying to free himself from the bindings was a useless endeavor he knew. It wasn’t like the mercenary to be so careless, especially not with him.

A string of mental curses shot through his mind. Not only was he at Slade’s mercy, or lack there of, but the timing could not have been worse. Officer Dick Grayson had a week off. He had been planning on visiting his family in Gothem. It was going to be a surprise. He hadn’t told anyone. No one would realize he was missing for days.

Nightwing turned his attention back to Slade. “I know you’ve been away for a bit,” he started conversationally. “But here in America we have this concept called personal space.” He wanted the masked man away from him.

A low chuckle emerged from Slade’s throat. This was just too amusing. He moved to smooth the younger man’s hair. “I see you have not lost your sense of humor.”

Dick instinctively jerked away, causing the mercenary to withdraw his hand.

“I thought you knew better,” the mercenary sounded disappointed. “I will wait until you show me your eyes of your own free will.” He ignored Nightwing’s mutter for him not to hold his breath. “Besides, don’t you still use an adhesive on your mask?”

“A different one,” the words were spoken grudgingly. Dick had finished his analysis of the situation. The conclusion, baring a miracle, he was screwed.

“Still,” Slade leaned over him so that their foreheads were almost touching. “I can’t help but wonder what color they are?”

“Maybe they’re violet.” Dick knew the comeback was far from his usual level.

The older man snorted. He sincerely doubted that considering violet was one of the rarest eye colors for a human. Slade moved to pick up a full syringe from a nearby table. Now that he knew Nightwing hadn’t suffered any ill effects from the result of the fight he could begin.

Dick’s heartbeat shot through the roof. “Are you insane?” he hissed. “You know how many people have died from that.” He was gambling on the fact the mercenary wanted him alive.

Slade was unmoved. “I have refined the formula. Besides,” he added. “I have faith in you my apprentice.”

Hidden eyes flashed with fire. “I am not yours,” he growled. “Not now and not ever.” Nightwing sounded very like his mentor at that moment.

The other’s only response was to forcefully push the young man’s head to one side, injecting the serum into his jugular vein. In the long run, words didn’t really mean anything.

Dick felt the effects almost immediately. The formula was liquid fire in his veins. It was hard to think; he couldn’t focus. Some time passed, but finally the vigilante succumbed to the inevitable. He passed out, again.

Strong fingers gently pushed Nightwing’s bangs out of his face. Slade could feel the heat radiating from the younger’s body even through his gloves. Part of him regretted what he was putting the other through, because the immortal knew, it would only get worse.

**Chapter Two**

Dick drifted. There was no other way to describe the slew of thoughts and memories that assailed him. It was like a nightmare, one from which he could not awaken.

Scenes flashed through his mind, one after another. Not all of them were unpleasant, but most of them were; patrolling Gothem with Batman, battles with the Titans at his side, more fights with Bruce than he cared to recall. The night the Joker shot him was definitely something Dick could have lived without remembering.

More than anything though, the young man’s thoughts strayed back to the night of his parents’ deaths. No one had seen it coming. It had been just another performance for the Flying Graysons, until one man’s greed had brought the family low. It was almost funny. So many years had passed and yet Dick still remembered it clearly. The memory drove him even now.

The combined weight of his parents had caused the sabotaged rope to give way. For a moment it had seemed like nothing was wrong. Then, gravity had asserted itself and the pair had fallen. In the young boy’s eyes it had taken an eternity. The sound of their bodies as they hit the floor would never fade, no matter how many years passed.

Slade’s hands clenched briefly as Nightwing moaned. A nearby screen displayed the vigilante’s vital signs. The mercenary was taking no chances with the younger’s health. He had all everything he could possibly need. Nothing but the best of course, there were private hospitals with less sophisticated equipment than he had at his disposal.

Now that the time had come, Slade had to admit he was a little nervous. What if something went wrong? What if it didn’t work? His composure wasn’t helped by the presence of flashbacks. The situation reminded him of when he had been in the other’s position.

_“Kek sadullos!” _Dick cried out. He wasn’t really awake. The young man was still delirious, hovering just on the edge of consciousness.

A faint frown crossed the mercenary’s face. That had not been English. Slade had been under the impression English was Nightwing’s first tongue. Obviously he had been mistaken. Slade wracked his brain. Where had he heard that language before?

“_Dai. Dat. Keck!”_

Suddenly it clicked. “Romany,” Slade murmured. He gazed at the younger man, taking in a hundred little details he had always seen, but never really noticed.

The tan skin, the blue-black hair, the bright clothes Nightwing had worn when he was Robin; even his acrobatic fighting style. He was every inch a gypsy. Anyone who knew to look would be able to see that.

Slade made careful note of the words. He could look them up later. Right now, he had more important things to think about than the vigilante’s origin. It wasn’t as though there would not be time later.

It took two days for Nightwing’s fever to break, and another for his vitals to settle. Slade sighed as he felt the young man’s pulse beat steadily beneath his fingers. It was over; the young bird was like him now.

A single eye blinked and the mercenary tried to suppress a yawn. He was tired. Slade had gone four days without rest. He had not left Nightwing’s side throughout the entire procedure. One last look was directed at the still figure before the older man turned and left the room.

Wintergreen could watch their guest. There was no danger of Nightwing escaping. The boy would not awaken for at least another day. It was time to get some sleep.

**Chapter Three**

Commissioner Gordon watched the darkly clad figure with concern. Something was wrong. Batman was a hard man to read, but the police chief had known him a long time. Plus, some of the other members of the Bat-clan weren’t so good at hiding their anxiety. Batgirl’s full facemask didn’t leave much room for interpretation, but Robin was tense.

The older man was trying to figure out how to breach the subject when Batman turned suddenly.

“We are not alone,” the vigilante’s low voice carried easily over the rooftop. The members of Gothem’s finest readied themselves, looking for what the Dark Knight had already seen. They doubted it was anything good.

“Perceptive as always Batman,” another figure stepped into the light. Most of the officer’s didn’t recognize the masked figure. The Dark Knight did.

“Deathstoke,” the mercenary’s appearance brought an entirely new angle to the table. Batman’s sharp mind worked at record speeds, reevaluating the events of the last week. Bruce did not believe in coincidence. “Where is he?” the vigilante demanded.

Slade bent his head to one side, giving the impression of amusement. “Where is who? Have you lost someone?”

Behind his cowl, gray eyes narrowed in rage. “Don’t play games with me Slade, what have you done with Nightwing?” He had never been happy about the immortal’s interest in his oldest son. Unfortunately, Deathstoke was not the type to give into intimidation.

Gordon inhaled sharply, so that was it. One of the kids being missing was certainly a reason for Batman to be upset. Not that Nightwing was much of a kid anymore; he had to be in his mid-twenties, at least.

“Oh him,” Slade smacked his head. “Where has my mind gone? He is here.” Yet another figure emerged from the shadows, Nightwing’s still form cradled in his arms. “You may have him back now.”

Robin trembled with rage at the sight of his big brother and an almost animalistic growl escaped Batman’s throat. The men and women of the GPD looked ready to shot the mercenary on the spot. Many of them had known the young man since before he joined the Titans.

“Why so upset?” Slade inquired. “You know I would never hurt him.” He smirked. “Nothing that would not heal at any rate.”

The Dark Knight’s body language clearly conveyed what he thought about that. He was aware of every injury his son had ever suffered at Slade’s hands. It was a long list.

“Do try to keep him in bed a few days,” the villain instructed. “He needs the rest and we all know how stubborn the boy can be.” Slade acted like he had every right to be involved in Nightwing’s life.

That did it. Batman acted so quickly Gordon didn’t even see him move. He did however see the masked figure fall. A batterang was stuck in its head, exposing the mechanized interior.

Laughter emerged from the figure holding Nightwing. “Do you honestly think I would place myself within your reach right now,” the mercenary’s voice was transmitted from the Slade-bot. “I have no desire to fight you and your fam . . .”

The sentence was cut off when Batgirl took the machine’s head off with a staff blow from behind.

The entire Bat-clan was instantly at Nightwing’s side. The young man was still out cold. “What is wrong with him?” Robin asked worriedly. Even though they did not share blood, Dick was family.

“I don’t know?” Batman skillfully checked his son’s vitals while trying to rouse him. He didn’t see any major injuries. The Dark Knight suspected Nightwing had been drugged. That would explain why the other was unconscious.

Gordon also approached. “Do you need a doctor?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

“No,” the curt voice was firm. “No doctor’s, no hospitals.” The commissioner was about to argue but Batman didn’t give him a chance. “Robin, Batgirl, split up. You know whom to call. I’m taking Nightwing home.” He wasn’t worried about an ambush. Slade didn’t care about the other members of his family. They meant nothing to him.

The two young vigilantes nodded before racing off into the night. Meanwhile, Batman lifted the smaller figure as though he weighed nothing. A moment later, the only people who remained on the roof were the police.

A soft curse escaped Gordon’s lips. “I hate it when he does that.” The older man didn’t sleep that night. He had far too much on his mind.

_sbsbsbsbsb_

As Nightwing began the slow climb back to wakefulness, he was struck with a surge of irritation. This was becoming a nasty habit. On, off, on, off, it was like he was a light bulb.

A large part of the young man was tempted to just stay asleep. Dick knew that opening his eyes meant facing a reality he did not particularly want to acknowledge. He wanted this to be a bad dream; he knew it wasn’t. The vigilante was drawn back from the edge by a voice calling his name. Not Nightwing, it was his real name. Dick’s brow furrowed. He knew that voice.

“Dick, come on son. Speak to me.”

Thick lashes lifted to reveal a pair of blue eyes that put some sapphires to shame. “Bruce,” he croaked. The effort of speaking sent Dick into a fit of coughs.

A glass of water was placed gently, but firmly to the young man’s lips. He drank half of it before looking around in confusion. How had he gotten here?

Bruce had no problem interpreting his former partner’s expression. “Deathstroke,” he answered the unasked question.

The name alone was explanation enough for Nightwing. Slade had let him go. The young man laughed bitterly. “Of course, he has what he wants. At least for now.” Dick drew his knees up to his chest before burying his face in them. He would not cry.

Bruce gently drew his head back up. “What did he do to you Dick? I have to know.” His gray eyes were full of worry and concern for the young man in front of him. “Lelsie couldn’t find anything wrong.”

Dick flinched at that and he tried to look away. His Father wouldn’t let him. “I am not surprised,” he finally whispered. “Nothing will ever be wrong with me again, not unless you count immortality as an ailment.”

The skin around Bruce’s eyes tightened as he silently cursed himself. Deathstroke had always been possessive. Rumor had it Slade had once scared off an assassin who had accepted a hit on Nightwing. He should have seen this coming, but he hadn’t and now Dick was paying the price.

Strong fingers reached out to smooth raven locks. Unlike with Slade this time the young man didn’t pull away. Instead he leaned into the Dark Knight’s touch. “It’s alright,” Bruce tried to soothe the other. “Everything will be okay.” Enemy and ally alike would have been shocked to hear Batman speak so gently.

“Promise?” Dick met his Father’s gaze. He looked very young at that moment.

“I promise. Now rest.”

“I’m not tired,” Dick tried to protest.

Bruce would have none of it. “I am not leaving you. Now sleep Richard,” he commanded. A few minutes later, the young man was out.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Sir?”

The Wayne heir looked up. “Come in Alfred.”

The butler entered carrying a large silver tray filled with food. His silent tread told anyone who cared to see that Alfred Pennyworth was more than he appeared.

Softly, Bruce explained what he had learned. Alfred’s lips tightened into a thin line. The former British agent did not share his employer’s aversion to guns. If given the opportunity, he would happily put out Deathstroke’s other eye.

He squeezed Bruce’s shoulder reassuringly. “Master Dick will be fine sir. He’s strong.”

“I hope you are right.”

**Chapter Four**

Nightwing closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the simple sensation of the wind as it ruffled his hair. It was good to be back home. Bludhaven was a hole true, but it was his hole.

Dick knew his sojourn to the city would be a short trip. He had taken the age-old adage that it is easier to ask forgiveness than permission to heart. Bruce would not be happy when he discovered him gone. It was very unlikely stuffing a few pillows under the covers would fool the world’s greatest detective for long.

Really though, his Father should have expected it. Dick had never been good at staying still, and the overprotective presence of his family was beginning to be stifling. It was nice to know they cared, but still.

It wasn’t just them either. Nightwing was certain half the world’s superheroes had been by to see him at least once. He had woken once to find Beast Boy snoozing in cat form by his feet. It was a wonder none of Gothem’s citizens had noticed anything with the amount to traffic that had been going in and out of the city.

Superman especially had been keeping an eye on him. Then again, perhaps he had cause. The man was practically his uncle.

If the others had their way, Dick knew he would spend the rest of his life in a nice safe room where no one could hurt him. The young man was not at all enthused with that idea, so he had decided to take steps. In his opinion, the best thing to do was get right back out there. Sort of like when you fell off a bike.

Nightwing took a deep breath to steady himself and moved. The next moment he was free falling. Bruce had always yelled at him for not securing his line before he jumped, Dick had never listened. It was part of the thrill.

The vigilante felt a familiar burn in his arms as the cord stopped his downward descent. He somersaulted through the air, landing perfectly on the roof of a nearby building. A brief pause and Nightwing was off, running across the roads only a select few ever dared to travel.

He had always loved this, from the very beginning. Pushing his limits, seeing how far he could go. It was a test of Dick’s hard earned skills, and his discipline. Now though, it was tainted.

Bile rose in Nightwing’s throat as he identified the changes his body had gone through. He was just a little faster, a little stronger. His senses had all increased. The worst part was, Dick knew in a few months he wouldn’t even notice the difference.

The darkly clad figure crossed the length of the city before he stopped. To his disgust he was barely winded. For a long while Nightwing just stood there, looking out over Bludhaven, until he felt a presence behind him. “Go away Batman.”

“Try again.”

The silky voice caused Dick’s entire body to tense. But he didn’t move, he refused to give the other the satisfaction. “Go away Slade.”

“And why should I,” the mercenary inquired. “It’s a free country. Besides, we have so much to talk about you and I.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“I disagree,” Slade smirked. “My young apprentice.”

Nightwing forgot his earlier resolutions as he spun to face the other. “I am not your apprentice,” he hissed. Part of him was bothered that the other could get under his skin so easily, even after all this time.

“Why Nightwing, if I didn’t know better I would think you were angry at me.” Even through his mask, the mercenary looked amused.

Dick glared. “Of course I’m upset. I never wanted immortality.”

“You will change your mind in time,” Slade stated confidently. “And then you will come to me, out of loneliness if nothing else.”

“Never.”

The older man just laughed. “When all we have left is each other you will feel differently.” Then Slade turned and walked away.

When Batman found him not an hour later Nightwing didn’t even object to returning to the manor. He had far too much on his mind; he would never follow Slade, never.

**Chapter Five**

Dick easily mingled with the other partygoers, resisting the urge to loosen his tie. It was hot; the music was too loud. How people could carry on any sort of conversation was a mystery, even to him. He had investigated it once when he was bored.

The young man had grown used to gathering like this ages ago, he was Bruce’s heir after all. But Dick would always hate them. If he wanted to suck up to people while playing word games he would have gone into politics. Oh well, at least he could amuse himself by watching his Father play the brainless playboy.

The older man really was an excellent actor. Still, it was amazing someone hadn’t noticed something, if not by looking at Bruce himself, then the company. Wayne Enterprises hadn’t gotten where it was by having an idiot at the helm. It had taken Talia less then a year to sink Lexcorp. But no, no one had ever questioned the playboy persona.

The vigilante’s smile faded as he regarded the man who raised him. It hadn’t been that bad at first. Sure there had been the months of retraining. Relearning his limits had been a necessity before he hit the streets. There had also been the lectures cautioning him from relying on his immortality. Eventually, Batman had been satisfied and things had gone back to normal, more or less.

Now though, it was not so easy to ignore the changes Slade had wrought. Bruce’s hair was starting to go gray. He was still fit, still handsome. The Wayne heir had been Gotham’s most eligible bachelor how many years in a row now? But, there was no denying his Father was past his prime.

It wasn’t just Batman either. Tim looked older than him now. His teammates from the Titans had all reached the point where not even their guardians could consider any of them kids.

As for Dick himself, the comments about how young he looked were getting more and more frequent. Just yesterday someone had cracked a joke about the fountain of youth. The vigilante was starting to think he would have to either drop out of the public eye, or start using cosmetics sometime in the very near future.

Nightwing considered himself extremely lucky that not all the members of the superhero community were limited to a normal human lifespan. Jason Blood for example. He wasn’t sure what he would do if it were just him and Deathstroke.

Dick had come to terms with the fact he would outlive his family, even if they all died of old age. There was no cure for immortality. The fact he and Slade were not the only long-lived beings in the world was a comfort though, a small one to be sure but still a comfort.

That didn’t stop him from recalling the mercenary’s words. Slade had sounded so confident. He always sounded confident. Deep, deep down, Dick couldn’t help but wonder if he would give in someday.

The thought was banished as Bruce waved him over. The older man had raised him, trained him, taught him right from wrong. Surrendering to Slade would be a betrayal of the highest magnitude. Not to mention his parents, what would they think if they were still around? Dick’s expression hardened. No, he would never follow Slade, ever.

He would make his curse into a gift. It would be just another weapon in his fight against the darkness. He would use it to protect the weak and the innocent, those who could not protect themselves. He was Nightwing; he was a bat, and he would never forget it.

A grim smile graced Dick’s handsome features. He would live, not simply survive. He would grow stronger. Someday, Slade would regret he had ever considered making him immortal, he would see to it. All it would take was time, and that was something the vigilante had in abundance.

**Epilogue**

_A Lifetime Later_

Nightwing roughly shoved his captive into the streamlined vehicle. It didn’t really have a name. There was no way Dick was going to call his car the Birdmobile. That was just corny, even for him.

A soft grunt escaped the bound figure before he hauled himself into a sitting position. The kid had got him good, Slade had to admit. His head was still ringing.

The ride to the Bludhaven Police Station was taken mostly in silence. Dick had thought about moving back to Gotham after his Father passed away, but he hadn’t. This was his city. He knew Batman would have understood that sentiment.

Finally the mercenary spoke. “Why do you bother?” Slade asked. “We both know they cannot hold me. You are not gaining anything.” Deathstroke figured it would take him a week at most to escape custody.

Nightwing laughed. “Of course I am,” at the other’s questioning look he elaborated. “Immense personal satisfaction.” It had taken him decades, but Dick had finally beat Slade in a straight out, one-on-one fight.

A small frown spread across Deathstroke’s face as he observed the younger man. He knew Nightwing well, better than most. Which was why he knew something was wrong. The vigilante had been unusually aggressive in their battle. “What is bothering you,” he probed.

Gloved hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Not that it is any of your business,” Dick hissed. “But my little brother is dead.”

Slade leaned back against the seat. So Kestrel was dead; like so many of the younger heroes, the third Robin had changed his name to show his independence. “So that is why you’re angry at me,” he stated carelessly.

It was the mercenary’s tone that did it. Nightwing slammed the brakes before turning on the other. One hand shot up to rip the mask off his face. It wasn’t like it mattered anymore. No one would recognize the face beneath it.

“Why wouldn’t I be angry at you? This is your fault!” he yelled. The vigilante closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself. “It’s your fault I’m the last.” First Alfred, then Lelsie. Bruce, Barbara, Cassandra, Tim, one after another his family had passed to where he could not follow. Even Jason was gone.

Slade was silent for a moment, stunned by the sight of the uncovered sapphire eyes. “The offer is still open you know,” he stated softly. There would always be a place for the younger man if he wanted it.

“Forget it,” Dick stated firmly. “I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Neither have I,” Slade was just as stubborn as Nightwing.

Calmly the vigilante replaced his mask and they continued to the police station. Really, there was nothing more to say.

_SBSBSBSBSBSB_

_I see the relationship between Nightwing &amp; Deathstroke _

_as a never-ending battle, neither of them will ever give up_

_Dick will always be a hero_

_Slade will always be a villain  
_


End file.
